Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 192

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 192

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Confronting the Past (1)

About two years ago, at the southern cave in Gairon territory.

There, Airen Farreira had put on an incredible display.

He hadn't been fooled by the demonoid's scheme to take the subjugation force's key figures hostage. He'd struck immediately, and the mission had ended without a single casualty.

It was the same now.

No one else could bring themselves to move.

Some had even fallen for the demon's threats and terrifying pressure so completely that they'd clapped along like fools.

Even Sevion Brooks and Perry Martinez, both Masters, had frozen up, body and mind alike. Only Airen had made the swift call to charge the Jester Demon.

So, then. Had the Airen Farreira of the southern subjugation and the Airen Farreira of right now thrown himself at the enemy for the same reason?

No.

Tears welled at the corners of his eyes as his face twisted, glaring forward.

This is the best I can do!

Two years ago, Airen Farreira genuinely hadn't thought about any of it.

The hostages' lives?

He hadn't cared.

The greater damage that would follow if he let the demonoid go?

He hadn't considered that either.

He'd simply been swept along by the man from his past life, moving like a puppet, swinging the sword because the sword had to swing.

The blade back then, untroubled by any of that agony, had been sharp. But it had also been endlessly light.

Not now.

Airen Farreira knew. He knew that what he was doing put the lives of countless expedition members in danger.

He knew this reckless choice could leave wounds on them, and on their families, their friends, wounds that might never heal.

He knew their fury and hatred might come raining down on him for it.

It was fine.

No. It wasn't fine.

But he had it now, the strength to face that without turning away, the resolve to bear the weight of it.

I'm sorry.

He wanted the happy ending where nobody got hurt.

But he couldn't look away from reality and let himself sink into something worse. That was what dealing with a demon meant.

The moment he gave in to its words, ruin would come, one way or another.

And charging in recklessly with hostages on the line wasn't the better option either.

A moment where neither choice could be the right one.

Airen moved on his own judgment, weighing it fully himself.

He didn't hesitate in the agony of the choice. He didn't flinch. He didn't run.

The hero's sword, carrying the full weight of that decision, blazed with golden aura and fell toward the Jester Demon.

KWAAAAAAANG!

"Ohh?"

The demon went flying, struck by the blade. It hadn't been cut. The impact felt as hard and heavy as kicking a mountain range.

Sure enough, the clown emerged from the dust cloud without any real damage.

Even behind the mask, Airen could tell the thing was baffled.

He didn't care. Airen Farreira closed the distance again.

KWANG!

KWAAANG!

Three strikes in a row, crashing down toward the crown of its head!

The clown blocked with its bare hands. This time, there was no room to spare.

The first blow snapped its left hand. The second snapped its right.

By the third, blocked with both arms crossed, its body had been mangled into something horrifying to look at.

And still, the clown didn't strike back.

Spreading its shattered, broken hands wide, the demon spoke as if trying to calm things down.

"Hey, hey! Hold on a second! Haven't we met somewhere before?"

Fwoosh!

"Oof!"

Fwooosh!

"Oof! No? Wrong guy? Then why do you feel so familiar? Ah, wait..."

THUD!

KWAAAAANG!

Airen stomped his foot into the clown's tricked-open body, then followed with a full swing that sent its head flying.

Again, it wasn't cut. But he felt the crunch this time.

Face hardening, Airen was about to close in again when.

WHRRRRRM!

"...!"

"You've had your fun..."

Darkness bloomed. With it, the clown's shattered body knit itself back together.

Aside from the crack already running through its mask, it looked to be back at a hundred percent.

But something else mattered more.

The moment Airen saw the black cloud forming above the hostages' heads, he moved toward them, even knowing he wouldn't make it in time.

But even a Master like him couldn't stop the clown's attack.

THUMP!

"Wha?"

The clown, though, hadn't gotten what it wanted either.

"Airen! Don't worry about them, just fight!"

Lulu, holding her cute little sorcery wand, threw both arms wide, and her power wrapped tight around the captured expedition members.

Her color looked bad, the strain clearly heavy on her, but the blue barrier held firm against the clown's ability, keeping the hostages safe.

The clown, startled again by the sight, was about to spit out some retort when.

WHRRRRRRRRRM!

Gulp.

Every eye turned to the same place.

A size beyond anything seen so far.

A brightness beyond anything seen so far.

An Aura Sword larger even than the one belonging to Sevion Brooks, a Sword Master of ten years' standing, bloomed like flame.

It looked exactly like a messenger of the gods descending with a legendary holy sword in hand.

But the Jester Demon facing him thought otherwise.

"This is..."

Not legend. Not myth.

Not some lackey of the gods, either. It had nothing to do with that kind of help. Having watched for so long, it knew.

That one's power...

That one's sword.

Forged from time and effort no human should have been able to pour out.

Born from an unbelievable being who had kept faith through decades of the demon's own malice without ever bending.

The very same thing that had made it, a creature who had lived for thousands of years, feel fear for the first time.

WHRRRRRRRRRRM!

The clown's thoughts went no further.

Golden aura had already grown large enough to swallow its whole body.

Golden light leaked even from the eyes of the young man gripping something that might have been a sword, might have been fire.

"Hah."

Why?

Not even understanding why it laughed, the moment it burst out, the young hero's sword came tearing through the air at terrifying speed.

Thk.

Feeling it drive into its solar plexus, the Jester Demon thought.

Finally found you.

* * *

Airen Farreira summoned his Greatsword. Not stopping there, he drew out his Aura Sword and charged the demon with a savage momentum.

Yes. It was, without question, a demon.

Sevion Brooks, looking at the clown-shaped demon in front of him, felt a rush of thoughts pass through his mind in that brief instant.

This is... unbelievable.

The first thing he felt was a kind of hollow disbelief.

He'd had a thought before, one he'd never admitted out loud.

He'd hoped, at least a little, that some demons still remained in this era.

The exploits and legacy of the demon slayers, now nothing but old stories!

He'd never doubted he could match them, if given the chance.

Whatever anyone said, he stood at the summit of the continent as a great swordsman.

His skill was more than enough to make ordinary demonoids feel beneath him.

Now I understand. How absurd that thought was.

Sevion Brooks glanced at a few of the knights near him. The ones who'd clapped along, following the clown's lead.

But he felt no urge to scold them.

Not when he himself had been frozen solid, crushed under the Jester Demon's darkness, just moments ago.

That was exactly why this was so shocking.

The young Sword Master he'd considered beneath him was standing alone against a demon.

KWANG!

KWAAANG!

Incredible.

He wasn't talking about swordsmanship.

The flow was fierce and fluid, impressive to watch, sure, but his own swordsmanship wasn't lacking either.

He wasn't talking about the aura, either.

That kind of power at that age was hard to believe, but he didn't think he'd lose to it.

What struck Sevion Brooks wasn't anything visible on the surface.

Something normally impossible to see into, but that shone brighter than anything else when standing before the demonic.

His heart and his will!

Why hadn't he, or Perry Martinez, or any of the others stepped forward against the clown?

Because of the hostages?

That could be a reason, sure, but not for him. Not really.

Some sacrifice was always necessary when hunting demonoids.

Yes. The truth was, he'd been too afraid to even offer that excuse.

His body had instinctively recoiled from the vile, suffocating darkness surrounding the clown.

That young man must have felt the same.

Just as afraid, just as sickened, just as unwilling. And yet he pressed on anyway. He kept moving forward.

He never hesitated to close the distance and clash directly with the source of that evil.

How much doubt, how much experience, how many thoughts had he stacked up to build the heart and will that made that possible?

I envied and guarded against a junior who's so much younger than me... we're built from completely different stuff, aren't we.

KWANG!

KWAAANG!

THUMP!

The fight between Airen Farreira and the demon kept going.

And through it all, Sevion Brooks's thoughts kept churning.

Fear of the demon. Admiration for Airen. Shame at himself, and every other dark feeling besides.

Shamefully, the whole time the young man fought the demon alone, Sevion Brooks never once thought to move.

Which was why it was such a relief.

When that blond Sword Master finally struck down the Jester Demon with an Aura Sword that suited him so perfectly, the finest knight of Phalanke let out a sigh of relief without even meaning to.

He silently thanked whatever god was listening that he hadn't needed to step in.

Then, footsteps sounded behind him.

Startled, he turned.

"It's not over yet."

"..."

Illia Lindsay approached, her silver hair scattering a brightness even in the darkness.

She looked fully free of the dark energy now.

Still stiff with fear, Sevion's eyes widened in shock.

Airen, sure, but Illia too?

He couldn't fathom how she'd overcome the demonic pressure faster than he had.

Of course, Illia had no idea what was going through his mind.

She simply spoke her thoughts, her expression calm.

"It's not over. We need to help them together..."

"Found you! Found you! Found you, you damned son of a..."

BOOOOOOM!

Illia's words were cut off.

A powerful blast echoed out. Every eye, Airen's included, snapped toward it.

What they saw was the Jester Demon, a single line of blood trickling out from beneath its cracked mask.

"wnrdlsek, wnrdlsek, wnrduqjflsek, Wlwrh, Tlqrh, wltdlrlrh, rkfdkqjflrh, wkfrmswkfrms, wkfrmswkfrms Tlqdjtj, rm snrneh dkfdkqhwl ahtgkrp, wnrdlsek......."

A strange language no human could possibly understand.

But its meaning came through anyway. Every member of the expedition felt a chill crawl up their spine.

Some of the weaker-hearted among them foamed at the mouth and collapsed. Even Gregory Griffin, who'd reached Expert rank, doubled over coughing violently and sank to the ground.

Airen Farreira, of course, wasn't among them.

Neither was Illia Lindsay. Standing beside her friend, silver aura poured from her blade as well.

"...Damn it!"

"Whew."

Sevion Brooks, finally shaking himself back to his senses. Perry Martinez took his place beside them.

Behind them, Lulu strained with all her strength to keep the darkness from reaching the expedition.

A hair trigger of a moment.

The kind of tension that would explode at the smallest spark filled the dungeon, and the three Sword Masters and one Battle Mage fixed sharp eyes on the Jester Demon.

No, one of them wasn't looking at the demon at all.

Illia Lindsay, noticing something strange in Airen Farreira's gaze, glanced over at him.

"..."

How had it stayed hidden this long?

She had no idea.

But one thing was clear.

Whrrrrm...

That crimson aura, gathered like a bead at the tip of the blade.

Kzzzzzeeeeng...!

Layered on top of it, Anya Marta's Sorcery, unmistakably nothing to underestimate.

"No... I used up everything I've saved over three years..."

"Hey! Quiet!"